


i hope you're smiling where you are

by BookLover86



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Car Accident, Established Relationship, M/M, Past Memories, sort of sad ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 10:50:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9231608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookLover86/pseuds/BookLover86
Summary: A life can pass in the blink of an eye; he learned that the hard way. Now, he finds himself holding onto memories he had taken for granted. One stands out in particular to him: the memory of a smile warmer than the sun. A smile that was now hidden away forever.





	

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I do not own any characters or settings in this story.

     Viktor didn’t want to get out of bed. It’s not that his room was ice cold - it felt as warm as a summer day - or that his bed was comfortable - it felt like sleeping on a pile of rocks. No; what made him want to bury his face in his pillow was what he had to do today. Where he had to go, what he had to say, and who he would see.

     He felt something touch his head, brushing the fringe back from his face. It was something he hadn’t felt in a long time, which made him open his eyes to see warm brown ones staring back at him. Yuuri hadn’t put his glasses on yet, which meant that there was a level of fuzziness covering his dark irises, but Viktor knew that Yuuri was nearsighted, meaning he could clearly see Viktor currently. Viktor took his time staring at his husband, gaze roaming over his pale skin and his soft hair.

     “We have to get up,” Yuuri murmured fondly, giving him a small grin. Viktor felt the ghost of a smile cross his face as he lifted his hand to stroke Yuuri’s cheek, red from resting on Viktor’s chest for most of the night.

     That was how the both of them slept best, with Viktor on his back and Yuuri curled up right next to him, using him as a pillow. Viktor would wrap his arms around Yuuri and they would unknowingly synchronize their breathing. Somehow, though, they would wake up untangled from each other, but facing the other. It was something that the two skaters had realized early on when they started sharing a bed.

     When Viktor’s hand reached Yuuri’s cheek, suddenly, he was groping air. Viktor blinked and refocused on the spot next to him on the king-sized bed. It was empty and the blankets were still made. Yuuri always insisted on making their bed in the morning, but Viktor had always refused to. How he wishes that he had agreed to make the bed every morning, if just to spend that much more time with Yuuri.

     It was too late now.

     Sighing, Viktor forced himself to get out of bed and pad towards his wardrobe. His already-planned outfit was hanging on the back of a closet door that hid a room now too big for him. Half of it was filled with clothing that he didn’t own, shirts and pants too small for him. Shoes and skates littered the floor. This was only the second time he had entered the room since the accident, and he hated it. Too many memories flooded his system - the closet even _smelled_ like him - and he refused to face them just yet.

     Frowning, Viktor closed the doors and slowly dressed in the tuxedo he had worn for his wedding. He had been happier that day than he ever had in his entire life. He had dressed in black - how lucky for him at this moment - and Yuuri had worn white. Everyone was there: Phichit, Yuri, Otabek, Seung-gil, Leo, Guang-Hong, Minami, Michele, Emil, Sara, Mila, Georgi, Chris, Minako, the Nishigoris, the Katsukis, Yakov, Celestino, even JJ was there to celebrate with his own wife on his arm.

     Most of the ceremony had passed over Viktor’s head while he stared into Yuuri’s beautiful eyes, which were brimming with tears. He remembers both of their vows vaguely, but he remembers their kiss with alarming accuracy. Viktor had grabbed Yuuri by the waist and pulled him towards him, pressing his lips lovingly against Yuuri’s. It was soft, chaste, and promising. Phichit and Chris had whistled. Yuri cracked a smile, grasping Otabek’s hand tighter. Everyone else had clapped and cheered, some with tears on their cheeks and others with dry grins.

     Their reception had to be nowhere other than the one place they had spent most of their time together at: the Ice Castle in Hasetsu. Yuko was more than willing to lend the building for such an occasion, and it was perfect. Viktor and Yuuri’s “first dance” was on the rink, skating the same pair skate they had planned in case Yuuri got podium during his second Grand Prix. It stood to this day as one of their favorites to perform.

     The night had ended with them going to the nicest hotel in Hasetsu and booking the honeymoon suite. The only other thing Viktor remembers was the dim lights, the way Yuuri felt underneath him, and the wave of love that crashed over him when he looked into the wide-blown eyes of his now-husband. That night had been perfect.

     Now, Viktor would give anything just to hold Yuuri’s hand again.

     Viktor finally laced up his shoes, and stood, not even bothering to mess with his hair. He ran his fingers through the greasy locks and called it good. He couldn’t bear to step foot in that bathroom, not when Yuuri’s minty shampoo was still in the shower and his weak cologne was still in the drawer.

     When Viktor stumbled silently into the kitchen, telling himself to at least eat something, he was overwhelmed with memories.

     Memories of the time that Viktor had almost set their house on fire trying to make homemade _katsudon_ for Yuuri.

     Memories of when Makkachin had gotten into the spice cupboard and Viktor and Yuuri had found him snuffing a mixture of pumpkin pie spice, garlic powder, and cajun seasoning. Makkachin had been sick for the next two weeks.

     Memories of the morning after, and Viktor had decided to make breakfast for his fiancé. That memory stood out the most, and made Viktor freeze in his tracks. Viktor had been making pancakes from a mix - the last time he made something from scratch, it tasted like rotten eggs, and he had made spaghetti - when Yuuri had stumbled out of their bedroom. His glasses were askew on his nose, and he was wearing sweatpants with one of Viktor’s sweatshirts that had been tossed aside onto a chair. A blush was covering his cheeks and nose, and he was fidgeting under Viktor’s stare, but Viktor would swear for the rest of his days that Yuuri had looked the most beautiful and handsome and breath-taking during that morning after.

     Unfortunately for them, they didn’t have many more mornings after to enjoy. Viktor wished he could turn back time and tell them that.

     He decided that he didn’t feel hungry and chose to forgo breakfast.

     He walked into the living room to see Makkachin with his head resting on a soft black recliner, whining quietly. His tail slapped against the floor, and his nose smelled the fabric, which still held Yuuri’s scent, more than likely. That chair had been Yuuri’s specifically. Viktor’s was wine red and on the opposite side of the couch. The couch where they would cuddle - all three of them - and fall asleep watching a movie.

     The chairs for when they ate dinner, instead of sitting down at a table that never got used, Viktor and Yuuri sat in these chairs. Once Yuuri was done eating, Makkachin would always beg to get on Yuuri’s lap, and he would always, _always_ , give in to Makkachin. That’s how they would spend the entirety of the evening, sitting in those chairs with some cheesy television show acting as background music. Makkachin would always fall asleep on Yuuri’s lap, which caused him to fall asleep as well.

     Viktor had hundreds of photos saved of the two of them curled up on that chair. He told himself to delete them, but he can’t bring himself to follow through with it. They haunt his phone now and everywhere he turns in their house. Many pictures covered the walls and mantels and tables, too many frames to count. They loved to take photos, but Yuuri always insisted on getting physical copies of their favorites so that they would be keep them if something happened to them digitally.

     Now, all they served to do was remind him of what he lost.

     Photos of the both of them together, apart, of Makkachin, of places they visited, of skating, of anniversaries, of dates, of their wedding, of everything.

     The most memorable one was resting on a shelf in their bedroom, settled in a place where the both of them saw it every single day. It was of them right after Yuuri had won his first gold medal at the Grand Prix Final. He had beat out both Viktor and Yuri for it, and Viktor hadn’t been prouder of his fiancé than at that moment. They were both still in their free skate costumes with medals strung around each of their necks, silver and gold respectively. Viktor had wrapped his arms around Yuuri’s waist and his chin rested on his shoulder. Yuuri was mid laugh, one hand on Viktor’s and one hand grasping his medal. The two of them were sweaty and tired; their hair was in disarray and they looked completely drained, but still, both of them shone with happiness.

     Viktor remembered feeling such an overwhelming sense of love and joy at that moment - he didn’t even care that he had lost; all that mattered to him was that Yuuri had won.

     Now, looking at that picture made Viktor want to puke. He had faced it towards the wall when he had received the news that one fateful night.

     The night that ruined his life.

     Viktor patted Makkachin on the head distractedly, attaching his leash - black and leather, the one that Yuuri had picked out - and leading him to the front door. The front door with the coat and umbrella rack just to the side along with a short bench. The bench was piled high with forgotten shoes and hats and gloves. Yuuri had commented that he was going to go through it once they got back from that year’s skating competitions. He never got to fulfill his plan, and Viktor couldn’t bring himself to sort through the shoes that used to belong to Yuuri, the gloves that covered hands he used to hold every day. He just couldn’t do that right now. Maybe later, but not now.

     Viktor instinctively reached towards a violently blue umbrella tucked away in the corner but stopped short of touching it. Yuuri had found that umbrella, and begged Viktor to get it, insisting that he had to be prepared for rain. It had been one of their smartest buys, as they brought it along to the date they had later that night. It was beautiful and sunny that day, and began to pour during the evening. Viktor and Yuuri had been caught in the rain after emerging from the small restaurant, and Yuuri immediately deployed the umbrella. Viktor hugged Yuuri close to him and planted a kiss on Yuuri’s smiling lips when they were safe from the falling water.

     “This was a good thing to buy,” Viktor had muttered softly, causing Yuuri to laugh. The two of them wrapped arms around each other’s shoulders and had walked home like that, under their own umbrella of light and love.

     Now, that umbrella was curled up and stuffed into a dark place where no one else could reach it, as it should be. That light was extinguished and that love was broken. Viktor decided not to take the umbrella. He and Makkachin could risk the weather. He locked the door behind him and began the walk to where the ceremony was going to be held. It wasn’t far from their…no. It wasn’t far from _his_ house.

     He would never get used to that.

     After approximately seven minutes of walking, they arrived at the destination. A sea of black-clothed people with teary eyes greeted him. Straightening his back and tugging on Makkachin’s leash, he began to step slowly towards the people and the opening. Even Makkachin could sense that it was a somber event and that something was wrong with Viktor, as it looked like he was being dragged along.

     The crowd parted like the Red Sea once they saw who was coming, and Viktor hated them for it. He wasn’t the one who should be getting attention thrown away on this day; today was all about Yuuri. Soon, Viktor was joined in his solemn walk by Yuri, Otabek, and Phichit. All of them looked sad, although Phichit looked the worse, with tears still falling down his cheeks. Yuri’s eyes looked red and Otabek’s frown was even deeper than usual.

     As Viktor began to look around at the crowd, he recognized more people. Everyone was there: Phichit, Yuri, Otabek, Seung-gil, Leo, Guang-Hong, Minami, Michele, Emil, Sara, Mila, Georgi, Chris, Minako, the Nishigoris, the Katsukis, Yakov, Celestino, even JJ was there, being quiet for once.

     Once Viktor stepped inside of the church and saw the shiny ebony casket sitting at the end of the aisle, he felt his mind go blank. Makkachin barked and began to pull Viktor towards the coffin, and he allowed it. Once they reached it, Viktor felt all the pain and emotion he had bottled up for the past few days rush to the surface and explode in his mind.

     Tears began to spill from his eyes, and his body felt akin to a noodle; he couldn’t feel his limbs and he couldn’t think about anything other than the person - no, the _body_ \- in front of him.

     Yuuri wasn’t dressed in a tuxedo, thankfully. The only times Viktor had seen him wear one was at banquets and their own wedding. Yuuri wasn’t one to dress up fancy. Instead, they had him dressed in a pair of black sweats and one of his practice shirts with his Japan skating jacket over it. His hair looked as soft as it ever did when he was breathing. His eyes were closed, but he didn’t wear his glasses.

     No; those were destroyed in the accident.

     Yuuri’s hands were folded on his chest, his limp fingers loosely clasped together. No matter how much they tried to make him look like it, the body before Viktor did _not_ look like his husband. His husband had been full of life and smiles, a bright and beautiful human being whom everyone loved the moment they met him.

     This was not Yuuri.

     The skin was too pale, barely tinted blue, the chest was too still, and the lips were too slack. Viktor couldn’t reconcile the Yuuri he was seeing to any of his memories of him. Some sad part of him whispered that maybe this was a mannequin, and that Yuuri would jump out from behind a curtain, yelling, “Surprise!” But Viktor knew that that wasn’t true; this Yuuri looked exactly like the Yuuri he had seen at the hospital, after he had been pronounced dead at the scene.

     The only reason Viktor had gotten to see his body before was for positive identification from a person close to the victim. Yuuri had been covered by a sheet, and when the nurse had pulled it away to reveal the lax face, Viktor couldn’t believe it. He had grasped his hand and begged for him to wake up. He didn’t even register that he had been crying until the nurse handed him a tissue.

     Viktor tried to shove that particular memory deep into his subconscious. As he did, another one resurfaced.

     The memory of Yuuri’s lone body in the morgue.

     There was only one casualty of that accident - Yuuri - and the rest got off with minor scrapes and fixable problems. There were three people in the car that hit Yuuri: the driver was sixteen and the other two were fifteen. Two males one female. All were higher than a kite, and the driver had much more than the legal limit of alcohol in his system. They admitted to purposefully running the red light, not seeing Yuuri on the crosswalk.

     Although the driver enacted the physical movements, the passengers were the ones who suggested and encouraged the idea. The worst injury in the group was a broken leg belonging to the driver, but nothing compared the what they did to Yuuri. The last thing Viktor heard about them was that they were going to court to get a sentence. They had come to him and apologized profusely, but Viktor couldn’t find it in himself to forgive them or even talk to them. He had just sat there, stoically, watching them as silent tears fell onto his cheeks.

     “My husband is dead because you three decided to drive high and drunk,” he had whispered, then left without another word. He didn’t even look back at them.

     Because of them, Yuuri was gone forever. Because a few teens decided to live on the edge.

     Once again, Viktor was pulled back into the present when Yuuri’s mother - Hiroko - tugged on the sleeve of his suit jacket. She smiled up at him sadly before leading him away to sit down. Viktor allowed Makkachin to rest his head on his knees, and he absent-mindedly stroked his fur. His mind was just blank, as if he had run out of memories to recall. Soon, Yuuri’s casket was closed and many luscious and exotic flowers were laid on top.

     When the ceremony started, he reminded himself to pay attention, if just for this. A priest droned on about Yuuri now being in the “great beyond” and some other stuff that made no sense to Viktor. When the priest was finished, it was time for the remembrance speeches. Viktor was up first, followed by Yuuri’s parents, then Phichit, then Yuko, and ending with Yuri. Viktor handed the leash off to Yuri and slowly approached the podium, hand clenching around the piece of paper in his pocket with his speech written on it. He opened it and smoothed out the wrinkles.

     Taking a deep breath, he started to read off the paper in a shaky voice, staring at it instead of the audience he had.

     “Yuuri…Yuuri was everything to me. He was my light, my love, my husband, my _everything_. I honestly don’t know how I’m going to survive now that he’s gone. He was funny, talented, passionate. When he got an idea, he didn’t let it go. He was stubborn, sometimes not doing what was actually best for him. I still remember watching him imitate my routine for the first time, seeing how his body moved to the music as if he was one with the ice and notes. It was breathtaking, and becoming Yuuri’s coach was the best decision I have ever made.

     "It was a gift, seeing him skate every single day. I didn’t get to watch him enough. I didn’t get to skate with him enough. I…I didn’t get enough time with him. I miss him. So much. Everywhere I look, he should be there. Beside me when I wake up, stopping me from trying to cook in the kitchen, in my arms during our movie night. There’s a hole in my life that I can’t fill, and I don’t think I ever will. Yuuri wasn’t a part of my life; he _was_ my life. I love him and always will.”

     Viktor finally looked over the audience, his eyesight blurry from the streams of tears dripping off his face and onto the paper. He had more written - or maybe he didn’t - but he couldn’t say anything more. He tried to open his mouth to close his speech, but no sounds came out. He gave a small nod before crumpling the paper and sticking it back into his pocket, hurriedly moving to sit back down.

     When he was grounded on the chair again, he buried his face into Makkachin’s fur, letting the tears fall easily. He listened to all the other speeches, but he didn’t look up again. He allowed Makkachin to comfort him briefly until he could put himself back together enough. When Yuri ended his beautifully written speech, there wasn’t a dry eye in the entire place. Next was loading the casket into the hearse for it to be taken to the graveyard. Everyone had opted not to have a graveside service, but encouraged friends and family to stop by and say goodbye for the last time before it was buried.

     The priest took the podium again and began to read off the names of the pallbearers.

     “Toshiya, Viktor, Phichit, Yuri, Takeshi, and Otabek.”

     Said people took their places alongside the coffin and heaved it off the stand.

     A soft voice in the back of Viktor’s mind told him that this would be the last time he would ever carry Yuuri. And he carried Yuuri a lot. He loved to sweep the younger man up into a bridal-style carry or sling him over his shoulder. Anything to get Yuuri in his arms, and he would do it. It didn’t take long to take the casket out to the hearse.

     Soon, it was loaded, and Viktor stepped back, watching as it began to drive off. Memories of seeing the scene of the accident flooded his mind. There was broken glass and twisted metal, and so, _so_ , much blood. Maybe his mind was exaggerating things, but it seemed as if someone had bleed out completely on that cement. The car was totaled, as it crashed into a light pole after hitting Yuuri.

     Viktor pushed those thoughts out of his mind and silently got into the backseat of a car. He didn’t know who was driving it, but he and Makkachin sat down in the back.

     He was going to see Yuuri’s casket for one last time.

     The drive to the graveyard was quiet and short, but felt like an eternity to Viktor. Once he got out, he immediately walked up to the casket and put his hand on the wood. It was ice cold to the touch, but somehow, Viktor swore he felt the heat of another hand against his. Maybe it was his mind trying to trick him, or maybe it was another memory, but Viktor had felt it. He saw Makkachin lean against the coffin and heard him whine, for he also knew that Yuuri wasn’t coming back.

     He just let himself get lost in his memories, which were now crashing down around him. He didn’t know how much longer he would have with the past being so clear, so he cherished it while he could.

     Everything bombarded his mind: the first time he ever saw Yuuri skate, the banquet after Yuuri’s first Grand Prix, the cold months following after Yuuri just left him there with no more communication.

     He remembered seeing Yuuri copy his entire routine almost flawlessly and not being able to connect him to the nervous wreck he had seen one year ago.

     He remembered making the decision to move to Japan to train Yuuri, remembered seeing Yuuri’s reaction and slowly learning the kind of person the figure skater really was.

     He remembered stolen hugs and soft kisses, still mornings and passionate nights.

     Most of all, he remembered _Yuuri_. The kind, amazing man he was. How he would blush at anything that was even a little bit suggestive, how he was headstrong and never backed down from anyone, especially not from Viktor. No one had ever talked to Viktor like Yuuri did, and it was a breath of fresh air. Yuuri had possessed a certain kind of confidence that was hard to find nowadays, and Viktor was proud to say that he eventually was able to help his late husband harness and use it to his advantage.

     The feeling of a cold hand on his shoulder shook Viktor out of his avalanche of thoughts. He looked back with tear-filled eyes to see Yuri. His face didn’t look sympathetic, and he didn’t try to comfort Viktor with empty words, which he appreciated. He didn’t want to be coddled. “He was a great pork cutlet bowl,” the younger told him softly, staring at the coffin with his own type of sad fondness. Viktor allowed a watery chuckle to slip from between his lips before leaning down and pressing a kiss onto the casket. One last kiss for the man who held Viktor’s heart.

     “I love you, _moya lyubov'_ ,” he muttered and stepped back. He turned his back on Yuuri’s cold, lifeless body housed between two slabs of wood, because he knew that if he looked back, he wouldn’t be able to leave Yuuri.

     Viktor pulled Makkachin along and they both got back into the same car. Maybe it was ten minutes or maybe it was two hours - he didn’t have any perspective of time anymore - before the driver came back and took him home.

     He came home to an empty, dark house. There were no lights on and there was no happiness radiating off the walls. It just felt wrong coming back after saying goodbye for the last time.

     It felt like…like it was over.

     Viktor didn’t want it to be over; if it was done, then that means Yuuri was really, _truly_ gone.

     He felt a wave of loneliness crash over him as he opened the door and allowed Makkachin to come in. He didn’t see where his poodle slinked off too as he stumbled back to his - no longer their - bedroom.

     Once again, he avoided the bathroom like the plague. He wasn’t ready to face all of his cruel reality. He had yet to look at the picture facing the wall, and he had yet to touch Yuuri’s clothing.

     All in due time.

     As he drifted off into a restless sleep, he swore he saw Yuuri smiling down on him and brushing his fringe out of his hair, and as soon as he closed his eyes, he heard a soft voice whisper, “I love you too, Viktor.”

     It may have been his imagination, or something else, but whatever it was, it helped. Viktor slept during the entire night for the first time since the accident, although no dreams plagued him. Those would come later, he was sure.

     Eventually, they did. Sometimes they were happy, and sometimes they were sad. Whatever they were, he welcomed them, because they meant he was beginning to feel again.

     Throughout the rest of his years, Viktor learned to smile again. Whenever he did smile, the memory of Yuuri’s million-watt grin would flash in his head. It was Yuuri’s smile that made Viktor want to continue with the rest of his life.

     And if he was looking forward to death in order to be with his love again, then who could blame him?

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS PAYBACK
> 
> This is actually payback for one of my friends. She found a bunch of sad Kagehina (Haikyuu!!) fics and allowed me to read them. In retaliation, I told her I'd find an angsty Victuuri fic, but I couldn't, so I just ended up writing one. If you're reading this CS, then hi! 
> 
> Kind of different from my usual thing, I know, but I'm really proud of this. I absolutely adored Yuri!!! on Ice when my friend recommended it to me (Fun Fact: that friend is the same friend whom I'm writing this for). Victuuri is definitely my OTP, and I am wishing and praying incredibly hard for a second season because I need to see more domestic Victuuri like I need oxygen. 
> 
> Anyway, I hoped you like this story. If you did, stay updated because I'm gonna post a new fic called "Never Grow Up" about Viktor and Yuuri adopting a baby girl and how they raise her. Otherwise known as "Domestic Victuuri Overload". I'm really excited for it. I have some more stories and one-shots up that you should check out to see if you like them. My favorite up right now is "Lightning In A Bottle", which is a Flash/Arrow fic centered around Barry being kidnapped. That one has a happier ending than this did, I promise.
> 
> Thank you guys so much for reading this. Please leave comments if you loved it or hated it. I love reading all types of comments. They either make my day or show me ways to improve.
> 
> BookLover86, Out! ;)


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